Chapter Text
For such a remarkably stationary life, Derek seemed to travel a lot.
Though, perhaps, that’s because he travels with no destination.
All of his life has been fleeing, fleeing ghosts, ominous feelings, real threats.
It seems like he should be fine. Derek is strong, handsome, stoic.
Derek is broken as fuck.
He’s got the style, the grace. He’ll never again have a smile upon his face.
But fuck it. No one knows where the fuck they’re going anyway. So he’s broken; so’s everybody else.
He’ll just surround himself with the broken until they’re all as fixed as humans—as werewolves—can be.
Maybe someday he’ll find a reason to smile again.
He kinda doubts it. But maybe. Maybe when he finds himself stationary again. When someone knows were to go.